Unaimed Arrow
by Cackymn
Summary: Part Three of Standoff series. Tony is busted, by a friend. He makes a decision. Gibbs/DiNozzo pre-slash


**AN: **Thanks again to divakat and gibbsandtonysbabe. You rock! Will carry this series on until something good happens. A few more stories, for sure!

I own nothing, thank goodness.

**Unaimed Arrow**

Friday morning, a week and a half after the slaughter, and the piece-of-shit meth-head was still in the wind. This team had busted international spy rings faster.

It made a certain kind of sleazy, irritating sense and Tony knew this brand of frustration well from his time with metropolitan PD's. Simple did not mean easy. Street people could be very good at evasion when the circumstances were right, and apparently the circumstances were right.

The atmosphere in the bullpen was grim and some of the other teams were helping with the ongoing canvass of hospitals, shelters, rehabs, merchants, and everybody else in the vicinity of the crime. Their perp was a presumed drug addict and might subsist on odd jobs and handouts. Hope of finding him was fading steadily as the search radius widened, and NCIS didn't know much about what he looked like because the only competent witness was dead. The older child was not quite four and could only say "man."

To be honest, even the meth-head label was a slender link. Drugs had been found at the scene and the fingerprint search had produced the name of an individual who had dropped off the face of the earth after finishing high school fifteen years ago. In Nebraska. The parents were deceased, the man had one ancient arrest, and the grainy baby-faced yearbook picture was all but useless. Having no one to terrify, Ziva was with Ducky going over the woefully thin profile and Gibbs was doing what he hated most - directing traffic and waiting. They seriously needed a break.

"Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs!"

Heads turned as they always did when Abby came clomping in on four-inch platforms. Abby could clomp at a run and she was doing so now, waving a piece of paper in the air while her pigtails danced in time to her impressive footfalls.

"Whaddya got, Abs?"

Gibbs didn't sound hopeful, but that was probably because he was tired. Abby clomping up in person always meant something.

"Big news, Gibbs, huge news! Our dirtbag is no longer anonymous! Sorry, I couldn't wait for you to check your emails, and..."

"He wasn't anonymous before, Abs. You matched his fingerprints last week. Stanley Alan Crawford. High school nickname was Sack."

Abby narrowed her eyes, then continued with gusto.

"That's _right,_ Gibbs, and where has that gotten us? Nowhere, that's where! Everyone knows his name and nobody knows who he is. He's not anonymous, he's invisible! Well, _not_ anymore!"

As if on cue, McGee began rising from his chair, fingers still on his keyboard, eyes on his monitor, an excited grin on his face.

"Cheeseburger!" he yelled, prompting immediate silence.

Everyone stared at McGee as if he were insane and Abby displayed her paper with an elaborate flourish. It was a photo.

Tony glanced from McGee to Gibbs, whose patience was showing signs of wearing thin.

"Uh, Probie...you should probably explain..."

"It's another nickname!" Tim and Abby shouted in unison.

Tony couldn't resist.

"Cheeseburger, for a speed-freak? You're kidding! I mean, Rusty Razor or maybe Bathtub... But _Cheeseburger_, that's all wrong."

"It's not wrong if it helps us find him, Tony," McGee chided, smiling.

"And how is it going to do_ that,_ McDonalds?"

"You know how, Tony."

McGee was still beaming, clicker now in hand. The plasma lit up and printers were already humming.

Tony groaned.

"I know. I just didn't want to go back to the three million people I've interviewed and ask for a Cheeseburger."

He felt rather than saw Gibbs begin to level a stare in his direction.

"But I will!"

He would, too. The surveillance photo had indeed come from a McDonald's near the crime scene. With no recent photo and the first BOLO turning up nothing, Abby and a handful of agents had personally gone over a staggering volume of crappy restaurant and convenience store video, hoping against hope that a murderer who had managed to draw no attention to himself was walking around looking more or less like his graduation picture.

Tony and the rest of the team knew that meth users could turn violent, and that it was as unpredictable as it was inevitable. Crawford might not even remember what he had done, but apparently he had cleaned himself up was filling up on fast food. Their fear was that he would drift out of the area without another trace rather than stick around and spend his victim's money on showers and cheeseburgers.

For now though, the new photo was a lucky break, the kind Tony knew only materialized behind a hell of a lot of legwork.

At midnight Gibbs assigned a night shift and sent his team home for some much needed rest. They hadn't caught up with their man yet, but they would. They would get the right guy, and the fingerprints would match. They had to.

Tony was more desperate than most to solve this case. NCIS was not some local PD and was not going to put the file away and wait for Crawford to walk in the door. That point had been painfully brought home the day Tony had looked up and seen Gibbs headed down from the conference room with wrath on his face and a Marine at his side. The young man's starched uniform and erect carriage had only made it more obvious that he was a specter, a walking shell whose wife was dead and whose nightmare was only beginning.

Even more than he wanted justice for the young Marine, Tony wished there was something he could do about Gibbs having to travel this path again. It was too late to prevent it but he wanted to end it.

He wanted to end it for himself as well. For a week and a half he had spent his days chasing nonexistent leads, about half his nights over at Ziva's, and much of the in-between time worrying about Gibbs. With their relationship in a state of suspended disaster, Tony had controlled his anxiety during the workday and tried to keep an eye on the man whenever possible.

It was the least he could do. This deal was too much like Shannon's death for Gibbs not to be close to losing it, and no matter what else was going on he wasn't going to get tangled up enough in his head to let Gibbs down. Things were bad enough already.

* * *

Tony woke sometime before daylight, the anxiety over where things stood with Gibbs having returned. The case was warming up and he was shaking off the numbness of the last ten days. Soon the case would break and he wasn't certain he wanted to deal with what had happened between himself and Gibbs. Things had been said that had left Tony with a lot of mixed feelings about himself, about Gibbs, and about the last ten years.

He went over it in his head, again.

That day in the kitchen when he had sensed that Gibbs was going to confront him, Tony had thought he was getting busted for sleeping with a co-worker. He remembered thinking that it hadn't taken very long for Gibbs to figure it out.

He had waited for the four short words, "_You sleepin' with David?_" and had been prepared for a lecture.

But the issue hadn't been Ziva or Rule Twelve.

Instead Gibbs had asked something even more personal. He had brought up the subject of Tony's nervous apprehension around him. He had called it hostility and he had asked him why.

Leave it to Gibbs to zero in on something difficult. Tony hadn't even known where to start.

_"Why the hell do you do that, DiNozzo?"_

He examined a few of responses he hadn't chosen.

_I don't flinch._

No good. He did and he had, and he hated it with a passion.

_I had a sudden chill._

No.

_I don't want to talk about it._

Now that was something worth thinking about. When Tony had realized that the topic was heading straight toward his long-held feelings for the man, he could have shut it down. Why hadn't he?

He couldn't decide who he was more upset with, Gibbs or himself. Tony wasn't angry anymore, or at least he didn't think he was, but he still couldn't believe that Gibbs had thrown down the gauntlet after all this time.

In hindsight, Gibbs' question had been startlingly honest. In a devious, destructive way he had been laying it all on the line.

Hindsight really sucked sometimes, and Tony felt terrible about having gotten so far out of step with Gibbs. The conversation had ended badly. It caused a dull roar inside his head every time he thought about it.

He had been honest, though. He had been honest, Gibbs had been brutally confrontational, and absolutely nothing had been settled.

Tony closed his eyes and said it aloud.

"I don't want to talk about it."

He'd stick to that for a while, even if he knew it wasn't entirely true.

* * *

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I have not yet said anything, Tony!"

_What..._

He opened his eyes.

"However I do wish to say something now. About what we are doing."

Ziva. She was going to make a speech. It wasn't what he wished. They'd been working hard all week. He wanted to sleep awhile longer, or maybe just kiss the salty place at the hollow of her throat. Instead he wiggled himself awake and tried to keep his eyes open.

"Mmm. What _are_ we doing?"

"That is a good question, Tony. Whatever it is, it feels more like making peace than making love."

"That's a little esoteric, sorry. Mmf. More sleep, please?"

"Tony you are not fooling me. No one uses the word "_esoteric_" unless they are awake!"

"Wrong, Ziva. I do, but I meant to say weird."

"Tony I am just saying I do not sense that we are really in this together. I am starting to think that what we are doing is a refuge of sorts."

This was pretty heavy for morning chatter. Tony shook his head, realizing with dismay that she wasn't joking around, especially if the look on her face and the tone of her voice meant anything, which they did, always.

She raised up on an elbow, waiting for his full attention. Tony remained on his back but raised his arms and laced his fingers behind his head. He looked up at her with what he judged to be just the right mixture of patience and bland curiosity, a look so mild it often convinced people they had nothing more to say.

Ziva was either unconvinced or had something more to say.

"Tony, I will always be your devoted friend, as I know you are mine. But you cannot just find a place to put your heart. You have to follow it where it leads you."

She put her hand to his chest as if to demonstrate, threading her fingers deep into the brown curls.

Her hand was warm and reassuring, but Tony was a little confused. Of course they were friends. They'd gone_ into_ this as friends, not, as far a he knew, to talk about the differences between peace and love, or hearts, or refuges.

"You know me, Ziva. I'll settle for a place to put my stuff."

That was a little sarcastic, but his dials often flipped over to smart-ass first thing in the morning. It was a fun way to start the day.

"Yes I know you!"

At least she knew him well enough to laugh. This time she tapped him lightly on the nose with the tip of one finger and then stilled, looking only into his eyes.

"That is why I will not play a role with you, Tony! If there is one thing I have learned, it is that you must be willing to see the truth of what you do, however complicated it may be, no matter what."

Try as he might, Tony still wasn't following. He searched his memory, wondering if he had missed something when he and Ziva had decided to break Rule Twelve.

_"It is not complicated Tony. We know one another, we want to do it, and that is all. If it goes somewhere we will know and if it does not go anywhere, that will be fine."_

How could that have changed in such a short time, in the middle of a frustrating case? The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.

"What are you saying, Ziva? What's so complicated?"

"Only that I care about you too much to sleep with you when it is clear that you are not happy, that your mind is someplace else, that you are... not O.K."

"Ziva..."

"No, let me finish, Tony. We have become very close the past few weeks, closer than I ever believed we would. We are lying in the same bed, and you must allow me to be your friend."

He nodded solemnly, certain she was speaking from her deepest heart. Her eyes were soft but intense and her mouth trembled and Tony listened, trying not to think like a wise-ass.

"It is time you faced where your real feelings lie, Tony."

"All my feelings are real, Ziva. And what makes you think they lie?"

He was still doing it. He reached out and touched her hair, wanting her to know he wasn't trying to be a shit.

"There is something you are not saying."

He smiled sweetly.

"Maybe that's because I'm listening, chatterbox."

"It is Gibbs, yes?"

The question was not only in her voice but in her eyes.

Now Tony was wide awake. He must have only thought he was awake before. His sweet smile changed to an open-mouthed stare of complete surprise while the smart-ass quietly and unceremoniously died.

_No, not again._

A second ambush in less than two weeks? Tony didn't speak, didn't breathe. It wasn't funny when a secret, his secret, was made audible.

His gut clenched to hear someone else say it. Gibbs. It is Gibbs. He wondered briefly how she had figured it out, but it was too much to think about. He must have looked the question at her though because she answered it, sort of.

"A woman knows these things."

_Wow_.

He blinked at the use of the cliche. She wasn't just a woman by a longshot - she was his friend and partner, and while he sometimes questioned the wisdom of sleeping with someone who knew him so well, he also knew that hiding out with Ziva was far from the worst thing he'd ever done.

Still, she wasn't supposed to be in on _this._

It was so ironic. He'd spent a huge part of his life deciphering what women knew and how they knew it. It wasn't Ziva's fault. Naturally a woman would know. Women must know everything because guys sure as hell didn't.

He came back to the moment. The cat was out of the bag, and Ziva was smiling tenderly, un-ironically.

"Tell me about it, Tony."

"Oh, God, Ziva, I can't..."

"You must, Tony. And you can. You can face it. In fact I do not doubt that you already have. But you have not decided what to do about it."

_No kidding, just what _not_ to do about it, as in much of anything._

It was sort of hilarious. Ziva, the sharp end of the spear, was batting a thousand with the irony and the understatement. He liked the way she inverted things without even trying, enough that he'd already forgiven her for waking him up and playing him like a fiddle.

"It's too late, Ziva."

"It is never too late!"

"You wouldn't be saying that if you'd been there."

Ziva looked shocked. He had actually surprised her. Groaning inwardly he realized that he had also killed any hope of discouraging further inquiry. Talk about too late.

"Then something has been said? You know something?"

Tony was also on his side now, resting on an elbow, facing Ziva in a posture that mirrored her own. He met her gaze and held it, determined to sound non-committal and knowing it wasn't going to work.

"Yeah. Maybe."

"About how he feels?"

"Well... "

He could talk about himself but no one was going to get him to talk about Gibbs. It wasn't right and besides, he wasn't a teenage girl.

"Do you know or do you not? Yes, or no!"

"Yes. Or no."

"Tony, when did this happen?"

"I don't remember exactly."

"When!"

"Tuesday before last."

Ziva sat bolt upright, her eyes wide. Tony realized that she must have thought the hurt was older, or that the situation, whatever it was, was in some kind of stasis. He'd thought that himself just a few days ago.

Thoroughly busted now, he watched intently as Ziva exploded.

"Then WHY, Tony, why on EARTH have you been HERE and not THERE?!"

Ziva, bless her little ninja heart, was nearly hysterical. It was oddly touching and Tony gave in with a sigh. He sat up and crossed his ankles, keeping the sheet over his lap.

"Because of a jillion things, because of his stubborn pride and my oblivious ass, because the timing couldn't have been worse, and because it's a huge mess."

Ziva's mouth quirked minutely.

"A huge miss?"

_She does that on purpose._

"That, too. That's better, actually."

Ziva sighed softly and then paused, lips parted, eyes glistening with tears. Her voice was quiet and firm.

"Then you have both been in pain."

"I suppose."

"Well stop supposing! Do something. Did you ever really try, I mean _really_ try, Tony?"

"What do you think? One way or the other, I wouldn't be here if I had."

Ziva cocked her head to one side and proceeded, a little too excitedly in Tony's opinion. He stroked her shoulder gently.

"I think that probably many things stopped you, many understandable things, but where has it gotten you? I think you have been swinging blindly at the fences, waiting for the clock to run out. I think you have been...hiding your head in the sand...treading water! I think you are afraid to miss, that you are that unaimed arrow I have heard you speak of!"

Tony swayed under the barrage of analysis, of all of it. He couldn't believe anybody did this kind of thinking about him. No only that, but Ziva wasn't just pretending to be unselfish. There was a lump in his throat to prove it.

She got out of bed and slipped into her robe, leaving him to digest her words. Tony followed suit, putting on last night's jeans. He had a ton of clothes at the Navy Yard, per usual. They took turns in the bathroom then moved to the kitchen and busied themselves with coffee, the pause in conversation seeming natural and comfortable.

Tony couldn't help thinking, a little guiltily, that this was the kind of thing he wanted with someone else, someone who unfortunately was much more brittle than Ziva. They sat facing each other and Ziva began again, more gently than before, leaning forward with her elbows on the table and her clasped hands out in front of her.

"How long have you been protecting yourself, Tony?"

It was a good question.

_Only forever._

With Gibbs, mostly since Mexico. Before that too, but not in the same way. That had been the year everything changed - the year that Gibbs had shut him out, the year Tony had lied. Some good things had happened since then, he had to admit, but overall it hadn't been the same, and lately it was like looking through a screen. He turned his attention back to Ziva before he could get pissed off all over again. He didn't answer her aloud. He didn't have to. Her eyes were already flashing.

"Tony, listen to me now even if you never listen to me again. You are one of the bravest men I have ever known. I have heard you tell a man who held your life in his hands that you were the wildcard, the one who sees the reality in front of him and refuses to accept it. You came home alive. We all did."

"I had Gibbs at my back."

She let that sink in, leaning back in her chair, not looking away.

"Tell yourself the whole truth, Tony. Do it soon. You cannot dodge this bullet much longer. And I do not think that you want to."

Tony stared at her. She was right. Ziva David had gotten it right, down to the last cliche.

There was something else though, one thing that didn't add up. Ziva was proving to be pretty sharp, and God knew she liked being mysterious, but she could not have simply guessed. Tony didn't like the implications but he had to find out.

"Ziva... Um, how did you know?"

She smiled like a cat.

"Do you mean other than intuition?"

"Yeah..."

The smile turned into a grin.

"That is easy, my little hairy-butt. You talk in your sleep!"

Ziva was up and running by the time Tony launched himself. He caught her at the bathroom door and slapped her bottom as hard as he could before she slammed the door to the sound of laughter.

Tony sputtered, both chagrined and relieved. Any other explanation would have been unthinkable. She knew because he had told her and that was as far as it went. Moments from now he and Ziva would get into separate cars and drive to work, where he would be surrounded by everyone who meant anything to him. Then he was going to figure out what to do about the one who meant everything.

And yes, Ziva could keep a secret. In fact she was damn good at it, sometimes too much for her own good. As much as he loved his friends, he knew it was only natural for everyone to have secrets. Well, almost everyone...he chuckled and then laughed aloud, thanking the gods he hadn't slept with Abby.

* * *

He got his updates by 0800 and headed out for a day of canvassing and surveillance. Clearer now than he had been yesterday or for the preceding week, Tony was glad to be doing his assignments alone.

This morning's _tete-a-tete_ with Ziva had been a turning point, and while he would probably buy her flowers and really nice knife, he knew he wouldn't be returning to her apartment tonight or any night. What she had done this morning had been solid. Somehow in seven-and-a-half years she had evolved from a rival to a thorn in his side to a strange attractor and finally into a friend. To have anyone bust him regarding Gibbs had been a shock, almost a violation, but it had taken his edge off and brought him back to reality. Ziva's wild hope had reminded him he still had a choice.

He recalled what she'd said last thing this morning as they had left for the Navy Yard.

_"Is it not true that Gibbs always lets people know where they stand?"_

If Tony had replied he would have no. Sometimes Gibbs only let you know where _he_ stood. There was a big difference.

Tony was one of the people who understood this about Gibbs. He got it because it hit so close to home. Even on the thinnest of ice, Gibbs could project a certainty that made other people think what he wanted them to think.

He was almost infinitely adaptable in this capacity, a symphony of sneaky when it suited his needs. It earned him both enemies and friends. Sometimes he gained an unexpected ally such as Leon Vance, who loved a good game. Other times he found a kindred spirit like Mike Franks. Or Tony.

More than once Tony had thought of himself as a sort of fun-house mirror image of Gibbs. What Gibbs did with scowls and stares and silences and outbursts of fury, Tony did with smiles, chatter, and antics. They had seen through each other almost immediately, and it was why they so often communicated with looks and head-slaps instead of words. It was one of the things that made them a legendary team. It had also likely played a role in keeping them apart.

Whatever the case, Tony wasn't going to spend the rest of his life figuring it out. He wasn't wasting another ten years.

_"Tell yourself the whole truth, Tony."_

It was more like the rest of the truth. He was familiar with his own feelings, with what had changed and what had stayed the same. The rest of the truth was Gibbs. Tony had seen it during the unnerving silence that had followed their blow-up about who was to blame.

It was the look.

Tony _knew_ what it felt like to spring a trap on himself, and he knew _Gibbs_ better than anyone, so what kind of man would he be if he chose to do nothing about what he'd seen that morning, namely the pain in Gibbs' eyes?

_When he saw I'd been trying to forget I ever loved him._

Gibbs had been walking around with that, and the murder, and Tony had been trying to keep the whole circus up in the air for them both and he was still waiting for the dust to settle.

He might run out of cliches if this kept up, but he would never forget that he loved Gibbs, not ever again.

Tony grinned sheepishly and lifted his right hand from the wheel, not caring if some other driver happened to see him slap the back of his own head.

It wasn't a Gibbs slap, but it helped. There was no way that Tuesday had been the bitter end. Gibbs would have been cold as ice or would have continued lashing out. If it was time to move on Tony was certain he would have felt it in his bones. Instead Gibbs had been relatively mild if not exactly communicative. There had been plenty to do and Tony had noticed that Gibbs wasn't jerking him around the way he did when he was pissed.

In fact if the case hadn't been so heart-wrenching and so time-consuming, Tony would have felt like and idiot for keeping up a facade, but it wasn't idiotic. Gibbs was putting the case first, no doubt expecting him to do what he did best - anticipate and fill in the blanks.

It was perfect really. Tony could give his boss the required space, but he knew he could also find little ways to let him know what he needed him to know, that the shock had worn off and that he wasn't going to let resignation take over, not this time. He would keep it up until they were looking at each other across the bullpen again, until they were talking again, until he had made it clear to Gibbs that he had no intention of hurting him.

He was pretty sure he could do that while finding a suspect. He was a better multi-tasker than anyone but Abby. He was a also a dead eye. He might have to wait for the case to break before really taking aim, but he had a target now and it wasn't the dirtbag.

* * *

Oddly enough he didn't even have to wait for the end of the day.

For whatever reason, Crawford did not simply walk away. With agents fanned out all over the city and reports coming in, the noose had tightened. A final push resulted in Crawford being located before sunset. Tony was most senior agent in the field, and Gibbs paid him the courtesy of bringing him in on the collar.

"DiNozzo!"

"Here, boss."

"Stop what you're doing. DC Metro found Burger Boy. McGee is sending the address to your dashboard."

"That's great, boss, I'm on it! Are we sure it's him?"

"We're sure, it's over. Go get your man."

Tony almost dropped the phone. Gibbs usually said _"pick 'im up."_ He decided his mind was playing tricks on him and headed to the rendezvous.

With the perp transferred into his custody and a LEO along as escort, Tony made an unscheduled stop. It wasn't protocol but he thought it was appropriate. When he passed Crawford off to the booking personnel he thought the guy was starting to look relieved at being off the street. Tony smirked.

_This asshole doesn't know about Gibbs._

Next stop was the elevator and the next stop was the bullpen, and his team. The large white paper bag in Tony's hands smelled ridiculously good. He entered the room with his very best swagger.

"Did somebody order a cheeseburger?"

"Tony!"

"You did it!"

"No, probies and probettes, _we_ did it."

The mood in the bullpen was now jubilant, relief spilling over into smiles and laughter. Everyone was excited and little teary-eyed as the entire office gathered around Jethro Gibbs to see the nod and to hear the coveted words.

"That's good work, people."

Tony joined in, accepting congratulations and offering them in return. Ziva was a model of discretion. She didn't react when Gibbs' eyes rested on Tony just long enough to be noticed. She risked only a small, private smile when it seemed Gibbs wasn't looking.

The bag of cheeseburgers was speedily emptied.

Tony finished up his work more happily than he had in a long time, and nearly sagging with relief he headed for the elevator. He slid in just as the doors were about to close and almost collided with Gibbs.

"Oh, hey boss!" he offered, eyes wide. He was startled but this was okay, he would make it okay, even though he suddenly didn't seem to know where to put his feet.

"Glad you could make it, DiNozzo."

Not bad, considering he had just come skidding into the man's space. Tony flashed a small grin.

"Yeah, me too."

Then he blushed. It was only the elevator.

Both men shifted a little and Tony stood nearer the door where he could reach the stop switch if necessary. Gibbs opened his mouth and then closed it again.

Tony found himself in complete sympathy with his boss. Small talk or big talk? He caught himself about to cross his arms but made sure he didn't. Gibbs knew body language if he knew anything.

Thankfully Gibbs finally got something to come out.

"What's the deal with Ziva?"

Oh, that was so Gibbs. While not exactly big talk it was definitely not small-talk. Gibbs must have seen Ziva's secret smile after all. He stretched her name out as Tony liked to do, only without the attitude. It was funny, and possibly a little nervous.

It was something though, and this time Tony was ready. He had his answer regarding Ziva. They had slept together but that wasn't the point. Instinct told him to keep it simple, so he didn't hit the emergency stop. That was Gibbs' signature move, not his.

"She's a friend, boss. More than I thought."

Pulse racing, Tony decided to leave something out there for Gibbs. He locked eyes with him. He felt awkward speaking in code, but he wasn't on the firmest ground of his life, not yet. He spoke quietly, willing the meaning into his words.

"More than I ever knew."

He held still and didn't look away.

_Get the message, Marine._

Gibbs nodded in acceptance and Tony saw that he was studiously keeping his face neutral.

Tony raised his eyebrows slightly, carefully edging encouragement the older man's way.

A flicker passed across Gibbs' eyes. One corner of his mouth hitched up almost imperceptibly and his shoulders relaxed as the bell dinged and the doors began to slide open.

"Seems to be some of that going around, Tony."

He strode out of the elevator without a backward glance, leaving Tony catching his breath. Part of Tony's brain was trying to form a smile, but it couldn't get the signal past the pounding of his heart.

He finally breathed out a long sigh of near-disbelief, blessing Ziva and her cliches. He had fired a shot across the bow and nothing had gone up in flames. He and Gibbs had a chance, maybe a really good one.

_Unaimed arrow, my ass._

Tony knew Gibbs still had business with Ducky, with the Director and with a man who was about to find out that his unfortunate nickname was the least of his troubles. He knew the duties of a Team Lead. Tonight he was content to be going home. Barely feeling his feet touch the ground, he ambled through his exit routine until he found himself at his car, leaving work without an ache in his chest for the first time in almost two weeks. A smile slowly spread across his face as he made his way out of the the Navy Yard and into the clear, crisp night.

Next: Unwritten Rule


End file.
